Your Move, Babe
by ArhenaRuetto
Summary: Doran's jaw set slightly. She nodded, leaving Atton to count his 'winnings'. And as she walked down the hallway to the women's quarters, all she could remember of that similar night was that she had been bluffed, and she had lost.


Why couldn't they just leave her alone? She didn't have money, she didn't have looks. Oh, right, she forgot. Some _shutta_ put a bounty on Jedi. To hell with that, she wasn't even a _jedi_ anymore. Her lightsaber taken, her Force powers disappeared and her training had atrophied so she could barely somersault down a hallway without breaking into a sweat. There had been a time when she could backflip, jump onto someone's shoulders and crack a neck to the side without a second thought. There had been a time when none of this could've happened to her. She'd be meditating in the Enclave, training with Kavar, or helping Atris archive all that boring, sleep-inducing history. Anything would be better than her current predicament.

But her line of thought was broken as another kick to the jaw sent her reeling backwards, her hair flying in her face. She heard laughter, clapping and jeers from all sides, too blind to really see how many were in the cell with her. The Aqualish standing above her let out that strange sound. She could hardly understand what he was saying when he spoke, but she guessed this new sound was laughter. Not like it mattered. Everyone laughed now; she learned to deal with it a long time ago. The Aqualish spoke something before grabbing a fistful of her long blonde hair and lifting her by it. She didn't weigh all that much, but she kicked and clawed at him to put her down, her hair pulling painfully at her scalp. He took a vibroknife from his pocket and made to slash at her hair before the cell doors opened. The others in the room all quieted their laughter and the Aqualish holding her dropped her immediately. She crumpled to the floor before turning her head to look up at the new thug entering the cell.

"Clear out."

She couldn't see his face, but he was human. He had an authoritative voice and not a soul questioned his command as they quickly and quietly filed out of the cell and away from the detention hall. She pushed her hair away from her face to glare up at this new thug.

"Doran Trodiel. A few of my men tell me you're a Jedi and a former General in Revan's army."

Doran wiped her mouth, glancing at the blood that stained her fingers, before looking back at the man.

"I'm not a Jedi." The thug laughed and knelt down to get a good look at her, tilting his head a bit to look at her face.

"That sounds like present-tense to me. I doubt the Exchange will care, just so long as 'Jedi' is on your resume somewhere. I'm sure I can talk a bonus out of them for your army rank while I'm at it. Don't find many Jedi's that survived either war. Nevertheless, it's a short ride to Nar Shaddaa, and I'm sure the Exchange would _love_ to see you." He stood and turned away, pausing to look back at her.

"Nothing personal of course, General. It's just business. A man's gotta earn his way, you understand." Doran pushed the hair away from her face again, blood streaking her pale-blonde hair.

"Sure. I under_stand!_" She sprung her legs into the air, balancing backwards on her hands and thrusting her feet to kick him in the shins. She heard a satisfying crack before the bounty hunter cried out in pain, dropping to the ground and landing on his rear from the force of the kick. Doran stradled his waist and punched him squarely in the jaw. He called out again in some other language. Huttese, perhaps, she could never recall. Thinking quickly, Doran's hands flew over the bounty hunter's belt, grabbing a spare vibrodagger and putting it to his neck with a growl. Bodyguards lined the cell walls now and Doran leaned down to grab the man's hair and pull his head backward, exposing his neck.

"Tell them to back off or I _spill your blood here_." She said in a hurried, harsh whisper.

The leader snapped his orders in Huttese and all but one thug took a few hesitant steps backward. Doran glared at the remaining bounty hunter, a Twi'lek with light purple toned skin and long lekku wrapped around his neck.

"Step back or I'll kill him and strangle you with your own tentacles, wormhead!" She shouted.

The Twi'lek seemed unphased and gave the scene before him an almost pleasant smile. He opened his mouth to speak calmly in an almost flawless Basic.

"I care not for our leader. Half the men in this room were planning mutiny anyway. You're just helping me rise to the top with your little display of fearlessness. Kill him, or don't kill him. None of us really care." Doran wrenched the leader's head back again with a growl.

"You're bluffing." The Twi'lek shrugged and grinned, flicking a purple lekku over his shoulder.

"Bluffing or not, it's your move, isn't it?"

_"Doran? __**Doran?**__"_

"What? What did you say?" Doran blinked, furrowing her eyebrows and looking at Atton from across the table, almost frowning. Atton raised an eyebrow.

"Uuh...'Oh no, Mical's picking his nose again?'" Doran waved her hand impatiently.

"No, not that. What you said before about…"

"Oh, right. Bluffing or not, it's your move, babe." Doran frowned slightly and threw down the next card. Plus five. She had 18. She almost smirked at the 'Plus One' card in her hand. Her last card. The stakes were high. Atton had 17 total and was raising the bet like he had a sure win. He could be bluffing. She looked at him hard, almost accusingly. Brown eyes stared back with a cockiness that was such a part of his character that he could be called the definition of overconfidence. He grinned and winked at her as he placed a 35 credit bill on the already hefty pile. It's not like it mattered. They pooled all their credits together when they needed to buy something. It was share and share alike on this ship.

"Raise you 35, babe."

"Don't call me babe. I give up, you win. I'm not losing anymore cred-" She cut herself off as Atton's grin widened when he saw the 'Plus One' card hit the table. He held the last card between his fingers to face the jedi across from him, the 'Plus One' flashing like a mocking wink. Doran's jaw set slightly and she gave a flat smile, nodding her head and leaving Atton to count his 'winnings'. And as she walked down the hallway to the women's quarters, all she could remember of that similar night was that she had been bluffed, and had lost.

And she screamed, so no one would hear her cry.


End file.
